§ § § -- December 27, 1999

Roarke gave Leslie a package and checked his gold pocket watch. "The ten-o'clock charter will be landing shortly, so if you leave right now you should be in plenty of time to meet it. The courier is in a hurry, which means you'll have to meet him coming off the dock and hand that parcel directly to him. He'll be leaving immediately as soon as the last arrival has disembarked and all the departures are on board."

"Don't worry, Father, I'll see that it gets out pronto," said Leslie indulgently. "I've come a long way since my klutzy beginnings here twenty years ago."

Roarke laughed and agreed, "So you have. Very well, then, drive carefully."

Several minutes later Leslie parked the station wagon at the clearing and strolled across the lush green grass toward the dock; the seaplane rounded the curve in the lagoon as she did so and shortly was moored to the dock. The courier from Honolulu was the first to deplane, and as several other new arrivals made their way off one by one, she gave him the package and accepted a receipt marking the time of dispatch. Thanking her, the courier returned up the dock, and Leslie started back for the car, going over the day's agenda in her head. As usual, Monday was cleanup day, and it would be especially quiet this week.

"Hey, lady," a male voice called out from behind her, "can I hitch a ride?"

Leslie stopped short, her eyes widening in disbelief; then she turned around and stared at the tall man carrying a suitcase down the dock. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped. "Christian!" she shrieked and bounded across the grass.

Christian let the suitcase fall and caught her in his arms, his eyes alight. They hugged each other hard for a long moment before she pulled back to gaze at him. "What are you doing here?" Leslie exclaimed joyfully.

Christian grinned at her, holding her securely against him. "Your father quietly alerted me that Anna-Kristina had come here," he explained. "Only Marina knows I'm here, and she created the wildest cover story I ever heard to convince Arnulf that I needed to rescue my niece from some frightful, gruesome fate." They both laughed, and he gathered her in even closer. "I'm so very glad to see you, my Leslie Rose. This whole trip, I could think only of how it would feel to hold you and kiss you again."

"What? No worries over your niece?" Leslie teased.

Christian shrugged unconcernedly. "Once I learned she was here, I knew I had nothing to worry about—so I merely let myself dream of you." He dipped his head and kissed her then, shutting out everything around them while the charter plane coughed to life and taxied back through the lagoon.

Half dazed, Leslie stared up at him when he let go and sighed softly. "You can still knock me for a loop with just a kiss," she murmured.

Christian closed his eyes and swallowed audibly. "It only makes me want you so badly it's unbearable," he admitted. "Before I lose control, my darling, maybe you'd better take me to see Anna-Kristina."

Leslie hesitated briefly, tempted almost beyond saving to kiss him and let him do as he would; then she gathered control at the last second and sighed. "Can they arrest you for bigamy if you never leave this island again?" she muttered.

"Your father would gladly extradite me, I'm sure," kidded Christian, which made her burst out laughing. He joined in, then hefted up his suitcase and caught her hand in his free one, firmly interlacing his fingers with hers. "Well, so fill me in. Did Anna-Kristina enlighten you as to her reasons for running away from home? Arnulf is furious, and Kristina is merely frantic. The others are concerned, but everyone's primary focus seems to be the media attention that's being devoted to her disappearance. So what's behind it all?"

Leslie, leading him along to the car, stopped and stared up at him in amazement for a second. "You mean all they care about is the impact on their image? You know, Christian, the more I hear about your brother, the less I like him—and the more I want to rescue you from him." Christian's smile at that was warm, and he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and added, "Here, put your bag in the back and I'll explain on the way to Anna-Kristina's bungalow."

Christian deposited the suitcase in the middle seat and peeled off the overcoat he'd been wearing. "I always forget how warm it is here, even in winter. Yes, then, tell me." He tossed the coat over the suitcase and settled into the front seat, watching Leslie drive and unintentionally missing her recap of his niece's arrival two days before.

"…so she seems to have some food for thought, after our visit to Bond," Leslie concluded, stopping the car in front of the bungalow and only then noticing his eyes on her. There was a preoccupied look on his face and a slight, dreamy smile. "Christian, did you hear a single word I've said?"

Christian blinked and snapped back to the present moment. "I was…watching you drive. You visited someone named Bond? As in James Bond?"

Leslie began to laugh. "The fishing-village elder…but maybe I should let Anna-Kristina tell you herself. What do you mean, watching me drive? You've never seen anyone drive a car before?"

"You beautiful little tease, you," Christian said, rolling his eyes playfully at her. "I've never seen you drive a car before. Don't you know how your every move fascinates me? Just watching you do everyday things like driving or walking or eating…because you are the one doing them, they take on a new significance for me. I just want to watch you move, merely because I love you and haven't seen you in so long, and I can't stop looking at you." Christian tipped toward her, caught her hand in his and pulled her over to kiss her again. "Herregud, my Leslie Rose—is there nowhere we could go to have a night together without raising your father's ire?"

"Nope," said Leslie regretfully. "I could sit here and tell you that I could watch you move all day, and drown in your kisses, and let the world go its merry way, but I think it's better if you talk to your niece."

"I suppose so," he agreed heavily. "All right, then, we'll go inside." A strange expression contorted Christian's face momentarily, before he composed himself and swung out of the car. Behind him, Leslie was now the one who watched him as he lifted the suitcase out of the back seat and started for the bungalow. He wore a shirt and loosely-knotted tie, with black slacks and shiny black shoes, as if he'd boarded the flight from Lilla Jordsö in the middle of a business meeting and had never had a chance to change during the layovers. It made her yearn to take him home—a home only they shared—and free him from the tie, sit within his embrace and talk about their day, as a husband and wife would do. A surge of despair followed the yearning. Would it ever happen? Could she hold out hope in the face of an indefinite wait?

She caught up with him as he set the suitcase onto the bungalow's small front porch with a thump that bespoke his weariness. His gaze met hers, and some current of mutual understanding passed between them. Christian pulled Leslie into his embrace again and kissed her thoroughly; she instantly responded. Within seconds they were so involved that they never heard the bungalow door open.

Then Anna-Kristina's voice observed dryly, "Leslie, either you're kissing an apparition or someone tattled on me."

Christian and Leslie came apart in an explosion of laughter. "You're looking quite well," Christian remarked to his wayward niece, amusement lingering in his hazel eyes. "You must be enjoying being absent without leave."

"I have my reasons," said Anna-Kristina.

"Then," suggested Christian, "maybe you'll let us in and explain them to me. Your mother is frantic and all the family is quite worried. What are you doing here?"

Obstinately Anna-Kristina repeated, "I have my reasons, and they're good ones."

"I realize that," Christian said patiently, lifting the suitcase again and bringing it into the main room with Leslie just behind him. "I'd like to know what they are."

Leslie noticed Anna-Kristina's increasingly annoyed look and decided it might be wise to make herself scarce. "Tell you what," she said, "you two talk awhile. I've got some errands to run and a few loose ends to clear up. If you two are interested in having lunch with us at the main house, just give Father a call and ask him to let me know you're coming, all right?" Uncle and niece nodded, the one weary, the other scowling. "Okay then. Uh… Christian, my love, good luck." She slipped out before either Christian or Anna-Kristina could stop her, closing the door quietly behind her.

Christian half wanted to go after her, and might have, if Anna-Kristina hadn't said, "Well, go." It was then that he realized he was poised in a stance that telegraphed his wishes, and forcibly relaxed and turned away from the door.

"Leslie has her work to do—you heard her," Christian said, taking his niece's cue and speaking their native jordiska. "You still haven't answered my question. Are you suddenly so reluctant to talk to me? I used to be your favorite uncle."

Anna-Kristina looked suddenly sheepish, which relieved him. "You still are," she insisted. "Well, I don't know…maybe you can help me. Uncle Christian, I won't marry that Asgar."

"Why not?" asked Christian, settling into a chair with a quiet groan of relief. He began to remove his shoes. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"He's horrible," Anna-Kristina said. "I couldn't do or say anything right. He found every excuse on earth to criticize me and make me feel stupid and inadequate. I would have told Pappa, but Asgar must be looking towards riding my coattails to the throne, because he's the perfect gentleman in Pappa's presence, and Pappa would never believe me."

"Okay," said Christian. "How many times have you been alone with Asgar?"

"Three," she said. "He was the same each time. I honestly think he hopes to rule through me one day. Speaking of ruling, that's another of my reasons. I want to abdicate the throne and let the succession pass to Gabriella."

Christian went still in the process of unknotting his tie. "Why?" he asked, astonished. "All your life you'd tell me and your sisters and cousins about all the good things you were going to do for the people of Lilla Jordsö when you ascended to the throne—all the ridiculous, archaic laws you planned to abolish, and the improvements you meant to make in the welfare and health-care and retirement-benefits systems, and your plans to increase tourism and lure a few international businesses to the island. Oh, and don't forget, you wanted to knock down our Stone-Age castle and replace it with something modern and more understated." He grinned.

"Yes, well…" mumbled Anna-Kristina. "I was always a big dreamer, and you know it. And don't tell me you don't remember the fights Briella and I used to have about it—she was always so envious of the fact that I was next in line for the throne. The older I've gotten, the more clearly I see how things really are in our political structure. I'm no match for all that, Uncle Christian! Briella's more suited to it. She's studied law and really has an interest, and I also think she would be an exceptional ruler. She's got something—a knack, or whatever it is that's necessary to make a good monarch. I'm only the Princess of Cats."

"Usch, Anna-Kristina, you know I was only kidding whenever I said you'd go down in history as Kattersprinsessan," said Christian humorously. "It was meant to be an affectionate joke, which is the spirit in which I hope you took it."

"I have. I just don't feel that I'm properly prepared to be queen. I don't have the knowledge or the interest that Briella does and she'd be a far better ruler. If I had a dream job…I think it would be a…a travel agent. Or a teacher of small children, preschoolers or those in their first year or two. Or maybe a journalist."

Christian laughed. "It seems the civilian life really excites you. I expect if you were allowed to abdicate the throne, you'd find yourself in my situation, forced to support yourself and forbidden the royal coffers."

"Maybe I don't mind that," Anna-Kristina shot back.

"All right, all right," said Christian, lifting both hands in surrender. "So was that all?"

She shook her head. "No. I thought Mr. Roarke could cure me of my need for amakarna merely to survive."

That brought Christian to a complete standstill, and he eyed her with heightened interest. "What did he say when you asked?"

"He told me it's not possible," Anna-Kristina mumbled, her eyes suddenly bleak. "I'll always have to have it to maintain my good health, he said."

Christian pondered this in silence, a faint frown forming on his features. Anna-Kristina approached him and perched on the edge of the nearest chair to him. "If you think there's any way to get the other things I want…" she began tentatively.

Christian shrugged, primary focus elsewhere. "Well, your father puts little stock in anything I say. If you really want someone to champion your cause and have any hope of success, I think you should go to Marina. She can talk Arnulf into anything, it seems." He fell silent again, sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands spread and fingertips touching, staring at them in contemplation without really seeing them.

"You look destroyed, Uncle Christian," Anna-Kristina said after a moment. "Either take a nap, or go and find Leslie. I'm sure she'd not mind your company on her errands."

"Probably not," murmured Christian absently, yawned and frowned again. "I do mean to speak with her, but I haven't slept properly for twenty hours and I'm exhausted. Let me know if either Mr. Roarke or Leslie calls, but till then I'm going to get some sleep while I have a chance." He got to his feet. "Which of the bedrooms are you using?"

"That one," said Anna-Kristina, pointing to the one in question. "I think I'll just take a walk along the beach. I need to get out."

Christian paused to eye her. "Aren't you afraid you'll be recognized?"

"Oh, Mr. Roarke took care of that," said Anna-Kristina. "He'll probably do it for you too, if you ask him. Have a nice nap."

"Thanks," Christian mumbled and padded off to the unoccupied bedroom. Inside, he closed the door and lay back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling overhead. While he wasn't too worried about his niece's wish to pass the throne on to her sister or to jettison her verbally abusive fiancé, he couldn't stop thinking about her revelations in regard to the spice that had become the bane of his existence. Did Roarke know more than Anna-Kristina had let on? And how much did Leslie know? The questions circled his brain till he drifted off to sleep.